


The Very Hufflepuff Adventures of Miss Iris Granger and Master Malfoy

by Guardian_Kysra



Series: Keeping Up With the Grangers [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (More tags laterz), Gen, He loves Iris that much., I'm gonna get Draco in Hufflepuff gear yet., Proud Hufflepuff mommy, Viva la Hufflepuff!, Who is Eloise? And why is Draco so afraid of her?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_Kysra/pseuds/Guardian_Kysra
Summary: Iris Granger is preparing to begin her first  year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardly.   She has her wand, her trunk, her letter and everything else she could possibly need.   But everyone she knows always makes fun of Hufflepuff House, and she's pretty darn sure that's where she's going to end up.A story about Draco putting his foot in his mouth and then doing penance by taking his honorary niece/cousin to meet every Hufflepuff that will still talk to him.Told largely from the POV of his house elf Pidgey.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Keeping Up With the Grangers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534829
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	The Very Hufflepuff Adventures of Miss Iris Granger and Master Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a short multi-chapter fic. Probably about 5-6 chapters. ENJOY! (There are no warnings WHOO!)

Pidgey was wringing his hands, anxiety written into the crags on his little elven face as he watched his mistress fluffing pillows and straightening picture frames and running hands over linens. She was smiling despite the fussing, “You’ve done an excellent job getting the room ready, Pidgey. Thank you so much for all your help.”

He didn’t feel as if he had helped, not if she had found even a slight fault. Still, “Mistress is too kind to Pidgey. Pidgey hopes Miss Iris will be pleased as well.”

Mistress straightened, one hand rubbing at the small of her back while the other cupped the growing bulge at her front. They could both hear the sounds of running feet and young Master squealing about something or other downstairs while Master barked with laughing mock anger. Smiling softly, Mistress patted Pidgey’s head, assuring him that Miss Iris would love the room during her week’s stay before leaving for her first year at Hogwarts.

Miss Iris was not an uncommon houseguest, often visiting during the summers and hols; and she always treated Pidgey with an outgoing friendliness and affection he had observed her share with the Mistress, Master, the young Master and other witches, wizards, elves and . . . anyone really. 

She was the sweetest of children and seemingly carefree. However, he remembered one summer bedtime in particular overhearing Miss Iris fearfully asking the Mistress if she and the Master would be disappointed in her should the Sorting Hat place her in Hufflepuff. Mistress, of course – quite rightly, had assured that they would love and be proud of her no matter what House she ended up in. The young Miss had twisted the blankets between her fingers and frowned (a very unusual expression on the generally jovial Miss Iris) that she had often heard Master – as well as Mr. Harry, Mr. Ron, and others – making fun of or deriding those of that house. 

Mistress had bit her lip, a flash of shame marking her features before she hugged Miss Iris close telling her that Master, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley meant no disrespect to the House of Hufflepuff and that she would speak to them about their poorly crafted “jokes” regarding the most congenial of Hogwarts’ students.

The rest of the summer visit had gone smoothly. Miss Iris had enjoyed her time with the family, particularly Young Master Scorpius who was even more rambunctious with a live-in playmate to entertain him; however, Pidgey had spied her on more than one occasion, looking vaguely scared when no one else was watching.

He sincerely hoped the young Miss had overcome her worries and didn’t feel scared anymore.

****

The house was always more lively when Miss Iris arrived. She was the sort of child that brought a joyful light with her wherever she went (not that Master Scorpius, Master Teddy or Miss Aria weren’t lovely children, it was just that Miss Iris had a talent for making one feel as if they were the very center of her attention and happiness with just a glance). She had come through the floo with a large smile and a larger trunk. 

She was wearing a Muggle jumper emblazoned with a strangely rendered painting of the beach emblazoned with the words “All Sunshine”, a thick black belt with metallic-looking studs and Muggle denims torn along the sides from the knee down and laced like Master’s trainers. 

Master Scorpius flew into her open arms first as she peppered his face with kisses. Mistress embraced her next amid a cascade of words and coos as Mistress lobbed off a veritable checklist of concerns and Miss Iris touched Mistress’s growing bump.

Eventually, Master – grown tired of waiting for his turn – stepped in to greet Miss Iris with a kiss to her forehead and an arm around her shoulders. “Your room has been made up, of course, just as you like – pink and white. Pidgey oversaw the coloring charms and decorating.”

Miss Iris flashed a smile at Pidgey before running to him for a hug. “Thank you so much, Pidgey. Your efforts always make me feel like this is my second home.” She seemed in quite good spirits, though he had noticed a slight tension in her shoulders when Master first approached her. 

Just a small while later, Pidgey was fetching the bathing bubble potion for young Master (per Mistress’s instructions as the previous vial was now empty) when he spied Master leaning against Miss Iris’s doorframe, saying something about how enchanting it is, the first view of Hogwarts Castle at night from the lake. 

Miss Iris asks him if he was nervous his first night, if he was afraid he would be sorted into an unexpected House. Master tells her, “Of course I wasn’t. Every member of my family had been sorted into Slytherin since the twelfth century.”

Miss Iris was sitting on her bed, obviously in the process of resorting her trunk, trying to look happy and failing miserably. Master saw it too, stepping into her room and patting her head. “Would you like to talk about what’s been bothering you since the summer?”

Pidgey wasn’t spying. Of course, he wasn’t. He was a good elf. It was necessary to make sure his charges were happy and well-cared for. Miss Iris might not live in this house every day; however, since the first time she had ever stepped across the threshold, Master Draco had firmly expressed that this little girl was as much family as Master Teddy or Lady Black or Drs. Granger. 

Brown eyes darted about as if looking for a distraction. “ _Ingenting plager meg.”(1)_ She took a deep breath. “Did you see my wand, yet?” 

Master Draco’s smirk was sharp, his arms crossed over his chest as he muttered. “Definitely not a Slytherin,” before replying in the negative and asking if he could have the honor. 

Pidgey watched as Miss Iris glanced at Master, how her expression wilted slightly as she dug into her trunk to pull out a long ochre box with Olivander’s logo etched on the top. Unsure, she held the box out to Master, but he didn't take it. Instead, he lowered to his knees and beckoned her to open the box. 

Pidgey had seen many wands held by many different hands – both kind and cruel. He had known the snap of a hex, the beauty of a charm, the agony of a curse, and the soothing glow of a healing spell. He had seen the many different woods, heard of the variety of cores, and noted that some are carved with elaborate designs and others might be quite plain. Considering all of that, his breath caught when Miss Iris revealed her wand. Master Draco gasped, surprised, before flashing a real, heartfelt smile, asking if he might take a closer look. 

It was a work of art, the pale wood carved in an intricate design of coiling branches and vibrant green leaves from a tapering tip to a thick handle revealing the bearded face of the mythic Greenman, his eyes inlaid with malachite, the wreath around his head blooming with flowers. 

Miss Iris was pleased but subdued, as if slightly embarrassed or unsure. “It’s made of pear wood and Mr. Olivander said that such wands are very resilient . . . ten inches long. Dragon heartstring core.” 

“It’s a beautiful wand, Iris.” Master Draco placed the wand back within the boxes protective padding before handing the box back to her. “Pear also generally chooses benevolent masters. I think it suits you well.”

Gingerly, she places the wand box back into her trunk before stuffing her hands into her pockets and shuffling nervously. “Mummy and Nee-Nee both said they would be pleased if I ended up in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.”

Master’s eyes widened at that, starting, “Well, I would think –”

“AndNee-NeealsosaidshewouldbeproudofmenomatterwhatHouseIamsortedinto.” Pidgey had difficulty translating that, Miss Iris spoke so quickly, her words jumbled and barely recognizable as English due to her accent.

Again Master Draco valiantly attempted to speak, “Your Nee-Nee is right, it doesn’t matter what H—”

“ _Men jeg vet at du ikke liker Hufflepuff så mye, og jeg er bekymret for at du ikke vil like meg så mye eller synes jeg er dum hvis jeg blir sortert der.”(2)_

Pidgey wasn’t entirely certain what Miss Iris had just said; however, he was absolutely positive that when Master retorted, “ _Iris, du er altfor intelligent til å havne i Hufflepuff_ ,”(3) it was the wrong thing to say as Miss Iris’s face crumpled, tears standing in her eyes as she asked if she could be left alone. Mystified, Master Draco patted her head again before turning to leave, his face echoing a deep confusion even as he tried to assure her, “I’ll send Hermione to help you sort your trunk, if you like. There’s truly nothing to worry about, love.” 

If anything more was said, Pidgey didn’t hear it. He was too busy rushing to the kitchen to fetch a mug of hot cocoa in the hopes it would cheer the young Miss from whatever worries had taken her smile. 

***

Later that night, Draco watched his beloved wife, damp hair flowing down her back like a particularly tangled tumbleweed and body clad in a thin dressing gown that assured him of her nakedness beneath, as she contemplated her wardrobe with a small frown and a tiny wrinkle between her brows.

He was sprawled, spread eagle, upon their bed, the duvet warming beneath his bare back and his silk pajama bottoms cool against his skin. He sighed, feeling a special sort of contentment knowing the children were safe and asleep in their beds and that he was going to spend the night with Hermione in his arms. 

The hell of his mid to late teens had taught him a very harsh lesson in gratitude; and he had sworn on his wedding day to never take this life and all of its blessings for granted (and if that made him sound like a fucking Hufflepuff, well, there was a reason why he never spoke this sort of poncy tripe aloud).

Hermione chose her clothes for the next day carefully, laying out a deep blue blouse and gray skirt suit. It was one of his favorites, the cut of the skirt showcasing her legs beautifully. Of course, “Wasn’t Dean supposed to make the trip to Canada?” She would be gone for a week, returning just in time to see Iris off at King’s Cross.

“He and Seamus decided to elope.” She held some sparkly bauble of an earring near her ear as she perused herself in the mirror before setting it back in her jewelry box, rifling through the meticulously organized accessories. “I didn’t have the heart to say no.”

Draco tried to look stern, he truly did. “You are a horrible boss.” 

She snorted but he caught the affectionate smile she aimed at him. “I forgot to warn you. Aunt Oslo mentioned Iris has been very concerned about the Sorting. She firmly believes she’ll be sorted into Hufflepuff and if she is, several people she cares about,” here she flashed a decided _mum_ look before stripping off her robe to begin dressing for bed, "won't care for her anymore." 

Rising to his elbows, he gave a low whistle of appreciation for his wife’s nudity. “I’ve already assured her that she’s much too intelligent to end up in that House.”

Whirling about only in her knickers did wonderful things to her tits, her hair and her hair around her tits. The storm cloud of brewing anger on her face did absolutely nothing to sway his own growing ardour. “She _wants_ to be sorted into Hufflepuff, you massive prat.” 

He let those words sink in, the syllables running parallel with the memory of every word he had ever uttered to Iris about the most inclusive of Hogwarts’ Houses. His erection deflated. He fell back to the bed. He covered his face with his hands. Three realizations were taking up space in his mind where only moments ago Hermione’s tits and hair inhabited: 1. He was a fucking arse; 2. He owed Iris a very elaborate and heartfelt apology along with a trip to Honey Dukes and possibly a trust fund; and 3. Eloise was going to have his balls in a jar on her desk when she heard about this.

“ _Fuck._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on translations (from an online translator, if you know better, PLEASE LET ME KNOW ^_^_^_^_^_^_^):
> 
> (1)Nothing is bothering me.
> 
> (2) But I know you don't like Hufflepuff much and I worry you won't like me as much or think I am stupid if I am sorted there.
> 
> (3) Iris, you are much too intelligent to end up in Hufflepuff.
> 
> ALSO, in the next installment: 
> 
> We meet the fierce and fabulous Eloise and why Draco fears (and respects) her; Draco apologizes to Iris; Hermione tells him how to make it up to her.


End file.
